Pen walked into my house this morning very agitated. If you knew Pen you would know that she doesn’t do agitation. She does pensive. She does aloof, but nothing as vulnerable as agitated. “I am not my brother’s keeper,” she said forcefully, looking directly at me.
“I know that,” I replied, also knowing that she was not really talking to me. “How about a cup of tea?”
“Is it too early to add a shot of bourbon?”
“Not really,” I answered as I filled a mug with water and put it in the microwave. “What brought this on?”
“I just got off the phone with Alex, who told me he wants to live with us because we’re kind people and we’ll take care of him.”
“And you told him…” I started.
“To fuck off,” she finished.
“So what has you flummoxed?” I handed her a glass of bourbon and kept the tea for myself. Having only two chairs in my living room, one comfortable and one not, I gestured for her to take the comfy one.
She didn’t. “I don’t understand why family assumes privileges they don’t bother to earn."
Pen has two siblings, a brother and sister, who are younger than she is and completely wrapped up in themselves, their wealth, and their importance. When they were all in their twenties, their parents died in a plane crash, and the two siblings became puddles. But not Pen. Through it all, she took charge and handled the grief and shock, the endless details, and the transition into head of the family with a calm expertise. Throughout the years since her parents' death, Alex and Michelle have barged into Pen’s life without ever considering what they might be interrupting. I remember once I complained to my mother about their thoughtless assumption that Pen should drop everything for them. My mother patted my hand and simply told me I will understand if I ever become a mother. I never did become a mother and I hate to admit it but it took me a few years to comprehend her full meaning.
“Those kids have never considered your feelings. They’ve always been selfish assholes.”
“I know.” Her voice was thick with exasperation. “ But I’m seventy five years old and I’m tired of it. And a whole lot of me believes Alex will show up one day begging us all to take him in.”
“Us all?” A sliver of panic slipped into my voice.
“He knows we make joint decisions and that my vote is one of 5.”
“What idiot told him that?”
She laughed. “It wasn’t me.” And then she confessed that it probably was her.
“Then we need ML or Ryan on our side. We don’t actually need both.”
“Ryan likes Alex.”
“Likes, likes?”
“Maybe.”
I put my half-finished teacup in the kitchen sink, got myself a glass with ice, filled it with bourbon, and set the bottle on the table between. “Okay. ML is our only hope. She’s reasonable, right?”
“She met Alex in DC and thought he was charming.”
“Shit,” I muttered, taking a long sip of the not-so-smooth drink. “I’ll talk to ML. I can be charming.”
“ML loves bad kids and loves a challenge. Alex is both.”
I stood up and started to pace. “We can put him up in the big house and never go over there.”
“Like hell we can.” Pen stood up and watched me pace. “You do understand that once Alex is here, Michelle is sure to follow. I will not live with them.”
“I get it. I know you won’t. I won’t either.”
“Good to know,” Pen said with a smile, then added sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to disturb your wa.”
“We’ll figure this out.” I hoped I sounded confident. I didn't think I did, so I said it again.
“First, we have to figure out why you have such crummy living room furniture. That chair is a torture chamber.”